


friendzone

by kaiifayce



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiifayce/pseuds/kaiifayce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A date?! Like, with a real, breathing human being?” Dean sputters as wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Cas frowns, eyebrows knitting and his head cocking to the side slightly in his typical manner.</p><p>“No, Dean, with one of the dissection frogs in the Biology lab,” he deadpans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this has been translated into russian!  
> ficbook.net/readfic/1840370

“I’m going on a date.”

Dean chokes on a mouthful of cheap beer. He struggles to swallow before he spins to look at his best friend.

“ _A what?!_ ”

He and Cas are sitting in his apartment, enjoying the one night where Dean’s football player neighbors aren’t stomping around above them to bad house music and nineties rap. So they’re doing what any college kid does on a Thursday night: drinking the cheapest beer the convenience store offers, eating the student special pizza the place next door offers, and watching The Avengers. Dean actually hadn’t realized how quiet they both had been until Cas had spoken.

On that note…

“ _A date?!_ Like, with a real, breathing human being?” Dean sputters as wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Cas frowns, eyebrows knitting and his head cocking to the side slightly in his typical manner.

“No, Dean, with one of the dissection frogs in the Biology lab,” he deadpans. Dean snorts at that.

“Give me some credit, Cas,” Dean replies with a roll of his eyes, putting his beer down on the coffee table. “I mean, in three years I haven’t even seen you look at someone. I didn’t even know you were interested in that sort of thing. ” Cas shifts in his corner of the couch, his face an interesting blend of irritated and embarrassed.

“Well, I am interested in that sort of thing. Balthazar is setting me up with one of his friends. He says he might be a good match for me. We’re going out next weekend,” Cas says, tucking his knees into his chest with a soft _hmph_. Typically, that’s Cas’ cue that he’s finished talking about something, but hell will freeze over before Dean lets a topic like this go.

“Do you know the guy?”  
“No, he’s Balthazar’s friend, like I said.”  
“I fuckin’ heard, Cas, don’t get all prissy on me. What are you even gonna do?”  
“I don’t know Dean, you said yourself that I don’t really participate in these sorts of things.”

Cas now looks less annoyed and more uncomfortable and pink. Dean feels bad for the kid. He’s been dealing with Dean’s revolving door of a love life for three years now, so he doesn’t have a good role model when it comes to love. And fuck all if his family is any goddamn help. Anna’s been dating the same guy for years (and should seriously just tie the damn knot already) and lives in Chicago, so she’s not really accessible for these kinds of conversations. Gabriel sleeps with anything with a pulse, so he’s only good for bedroom tips. And Michael is just Michael; talking to him is the equivalent of talking to a priest: it’s just plain awkward. Dean’s pretty sure he only became friends with Cas because he pitied him for having such an awkward family. 

“Hey, enough with that face. I’m sure you’ll knock the kid dead,” Dean assures him with a soft punch to Cas’ shoulder. Cas’ mouth finally twitches into a small smile and he shoves Dean’s arm away. He looks at Dean for a long moment before he begins to chew the inside of his cheek.

“Would you… uh… would you help me?” he says shyly, eyes darting down before looking at Dean again. “You know, just help me learn what to do, what not to do, the basics of dating. Then perhaps it will be a successful date.”

Huh. Well, Cas doesn’t really have many other options. With the lack of sibling advice, not to mention the fact that Cas is already socially awkward, he’d be heading into this unprepared. The idea of some pretentious douche (because Dean’s damn sure the only people Balthazar is friends with are all English majors too, and they’re all snobs in Dean’s book. Bunch of know-it-all bookworms with permanent smoke stench and inflated egos.) laughing at Cas already has his blood boiling. At least he can send Cas in prepared to charm the kid’s pants off.

“’Course, Cas. With my expertise, I’ll probably get you laid. Never tried any of my moves on a guy, but I’m sure it’ll work the same,” he says with a smile. 

He pointedly ignores the way his chest constricts at the idea of Cas going home with the mystery date.

\---

When Dean met Castiel Novak at Kansas University’s freshman orientation, he had no intentions of associating with the kid, much less end up as his best friend. He was this gangly kid with blue eyes peering out behind permanent bed-head and a hipster’s wardrobe (except Cas lacks the capacity to be a pompous asshat like the hipsters on campus, so he kind of just looks like your average art student, complete with the paint smears and charcoal stains). He talked like he swallowed a thesaurus and was inherently brilliant without really attempting to be. That was more of the reason he started to talk to Cas in the first place. He was taking an art history course for his GenEd requirement and really needed the extra help. Fortunately, Cas lived in his hallway so it was easy enough to find him and ask if he wouldn’t mind tutoring Dean. He was pleasantly surprised to find that behind the intimidating intelligence and piles of art supplies, Cas had an awesome taste in movies. So, he inadvertently found himself going to Cas’ room for more than just studying. 

Somewhere in the middle of a Lord of the Rings marathon, Dean decided he’d keep Cas around for more than homework help. Cas told Dean he decided to keep him around after Dean showed up at his door with the special edition of The Dark Knight.

That was three years ago. Now it was their senior year. Dean had moved out of the dorms so he could be in walking distance of both his jobs at the local mechanic’s and the Roadhouse bar. Closer distance equals more shifts. With the amount of loans he had, he really needed to start paying for stuff if he plans on affording graduate school. His advisor had already landed him a spot in a really good Forensic Science program in Nevada, with a seriously big scholarship thrown in, so it was really a matter of saving for housing and the rest of the moving/living costs. 

So, unfortunately, his schedule had become filled pretty quickly between work and class. With Castiel still living on campus in honors housing, swamped with his own mountain of portfolios and work, they barely get to see each other. Whenever they both have a time slot free at the same time, they’re instantly together. Dean doesn’t like to think of the idea that by next year, he and Cas would be living separate lives. The amount of time he didn’t see him now already had him antsy.

Maybe that’s why he’s feeling a little uneasy about Cas going on a date. As much as he knew Cas deserved to finally have his own love life, a relationship would take away from the little time he already had with his best friend. He only had so much time left; he hated the prospect of someone taking that from him.

Dean becomes aware that he sounds like a jealous kindergartener clinging to Cas on the playground going, “No he was mine first!” to the snotty kid trying to push him on the swing.

He’s gonna blame it on the senior year emotions.

Yeah. Definitely that.

\---

Cas bursts in the next day. He makes a beeline to the couch where he promptly flops down face first. Dean guesses the deep mumble he hears is his ‘hello’.

“Dude, that couch smells like dirty feet, sit up before you vomit and add another stain on it,” Dean scolds as he walks over to Cas’ prone form, still drying a dish. “And what did I fuckin’ say about wearing your paint clothes on my shit! You’re getting this couch fuckin’ fancy cleaned for all the stains you have on it.” He snaps the dishtowel at Cas’ ass. The smaller boy yelps and flails himself off of the couch with a loud ‘thud’. From the tangle of limbs on the floor, he scowls up at Dean.

“I’m tired. I had a ride here so I wasn’t about to waste a break from walking just to put on clothes for you,” he grumbles as he clambers to his feet.

“Glad you make an effort to impress me, Cas. Just go put on one of my shirts before you Pollack my couch.”

Cas smirks and walks off to Dean’s room. “I’m appreciating the culture I’m instilling in your brain, Dean,” he gloats. Dean chucks the towel at him as he laughs and ducks behind the bedroom door.  
“Very funny, asshole. You gonna talk to your hot date like this?” Dean shouts as he returns to his dishes. He’s imagining Cas inserting art facts into the conversation. He’s always had this habit of spewing out random trivia as if he is doing whomever he’s speaking to a favor by educating them. Dean’s always teased him about it, but he’d be the first to admit he now gets a lot of the questions on Jeopardy right.

Castiel appears next to Dean with the towel and begins drying the dishes. “I don’t think he’d appreciate the topics. Nor would he take them with as much humor as you, Dean,” he says. Dean glances at Cas out of the corner of his eyes and smirks at him. He looks so small in Dean’s shirt, his lanky frame not filling the material like Dean’s does. But, Dean admits to himself, the look suits him. He finds himself liking the idea of Cas wearing his clothes.

He shakes the thought away quickly, shoves it in a mental box, and sits on the lid.  
Not something he’s interested in thinking about right now.

“Well, we have to make sure we don’t send you off in paint-covered clothes,” he laughs. “Do you even own anything without a stain on it?”

Cas frowns. “I can’t afford to do my laundry every time I get something on me.”

“Not every time, but damn, Cas, you need like a drawer just for scrubby clothes. And a drawer for looking good in public clothes. You can’t look like the homeless guy who lives outside of Michael’s when you’re on a date. Where are you even going?”

“The Roadhouse. Ellen doesn’t mind my clothing choices.”

Dean frowns slightly. The Roadhouse is a surprisingly good choice. It’s got great food, good beer, and pool. It’s not too busy where it’s hard to talk, but not too quiet so you have to talk in a whisper or everyone will hear.

“Want me to see if I can get a shift for that night? I can come to your rescue in case anything happens,” Dean says with a laugh. 

“No!”

Dean just about drops the plate in his soapy hands. He looks at Cas, who looks mortified, eyes wide as saucers. Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “I-I- I didn’t mean to shout that. Sorry. Uh, I just think if you were there it would be… awkward. Everyone knows we’re friends and it would most likely make him uncomfortable. It would look like spying,” Cas rattles off quickly. Dean relaxes and nods in agreement, still slightly curious as to why Cas seemed so quick to say no.

He lets it drop and they finish the dishes in silence. That is, until Castiel cracks the towel at Dean’s ass. Then it becomes a very loud game of Cas running away from Dean wielding a wooden spoon.

\---

“Cas, you’re _awful_ at this. It’s like flirting with a wall.”

Castiel frowns deeply at Dean, letting out an irritated huff while he straightens up in his seat. They’re sitting in The Roadhouse, in one of the back booths that Cas usually picks. He typically comes in at the end of Dean’s shift when he’s free and they grab some free fries and burgers. Tonight, Dean decided to surprise Cas by giving him flirting lessons. Where better than at the place itself and most likely the exact table they would get? Cas looked less than enthused about the idea, but he’s been going along with it pretty well.

Well, except for the fact that Cas can’t flirt _at all_.

“Come on, dude, all you have to do is look interested.”  
“Dean, I am interested.”  
“Yeah, but you don’t look like you’re interested in getting in my pants.”

Cas flushes straight down to his neck. This is about their fourth “date lesson”. They’re not so much lessons as they’re little crash courses every so often about seduction. Castiel has pointed out numerous times that his goal isn’t to get laid, but to get to know the boy, but Dean has argued that the only way to get a man to stay around is if you tease them. (“Cas, trust me on that one.”) Four lessons, and Cas still sucks at it.

“Dean,” he hisses, “I don’t understand why this is important. Shouldn’t I get to know him first before I decide whether I want to get in his pants or not?” Dean sighs and leans forward over the table, bracing himself on his forearms. He’s gonna have to demonstrate.

“Okay, Cas, how about you tell me about your day and I’ll show you how it’s done?” he says lowly. Castiel looks like he’s about to run away, but he finally gives Dean a curt nod and visibly forces his shoulders to relax. He starts to slowly explain the current exhibition at the gallery he works at. As he does, Dean looks directly at Cas and nods and ‘mhms’ every so often. He gently slides his leg between Cas’ underneath the table, just enough that it brushes against the tight material of Cas’ jeans. The dark-haired boy actually pauses mid story to gasp.

“What is it?” Dean says innocently, smirk clear on his face. The face that Cas makes at Dean is the best combination of annoyed and just a little bit aroused. Dean feels a smug sense of satisfaction that he managed to get Cas to be even a little ruffled. The boy tries to continue his story, but he’s already flustered, so Dean steps up his game. He presses himself forward a little more, never breaking eye contact, but he starts to chew absently on his lip. Cas’ eyes snap to the movement. His voice falters a little, but he forces himself to continue, tearing his eyes away. Dean responds by brushing his leg against Cas’ again. When Cas meets his eyes, Dean notes that his pupils are a little blown, then looks to Cas’ mouth. 

_He has a really nice mouth_ , Dean finds himself thinking as he licks his lips. Dean had never really thought to look at Cas’ face this close before, but he’s noticing the way his mouth bows perfectly, the little stubble on his chin… Cas is actually kind of handsome. Well, kind of is an understatement. If Dean was going to be honest, Cas was hot and he was pretty damn sure there were nerdy artists who drool whenever they see him walk by.

“ _Dean._ ”

Dean looks back at Cas’ eyes. The boy is flushed pink, a thin line of blue surrounding his pupils. He looks _terrified_ and Dean cannot understand why.

“I think I get the point. I will try to remember your tips,” Cas struggles to say. He’s actually shifting further into his seat, trying to get away from Dean. Dean frowns, but shrugs and leans back into his side of the booth. 

He shoves the little hurt he feels into the mental box and adds a padlock to it.

“Well, good. Now, I want a damn beer.”

\---

One damn beer becomes about six, plus two shots that Jo shoves at the two of them (she accidentally poured the wrong kind for an order and Ellen would shoot her if she caught her ditching good booze). Dean is drunk, and even Cas is a little giggly. The stumble out, Ellen shouting at Dean not to forget he has the night shift tomorrow, and head the block back to Dean’s apartment.

“We haven’t done this in so long!” Dean laughs, slinging his arm across Cas’ shoulder. Cas laughs and nods, his entire body rolling with the motion. Dean keeps the boy pinned to his side as they head down the street.

“No, seriously! We’re about to be adults and we don’t even go out and enjoy ourselves any more! How lame are we?” he continues, voice booming in the quiet of the night. Cas is laughing and shushing him.

“We have other responsibilities Dean. We can’t act like we did three years ago and get drunk every weekend,” Cas explains with a slight slur. Dean snorts at the memory of the two of them freshman year stumbling from party to party. He releases his hold on Cas to gesture exaggeratedly.

“Not even going out and being drunken messes, Cas! I mean, we both work and go to class and sleep. Already we don’t even get to hang out for more than like a few hours every week, and we used to be with each other about 16 hours out the 24 a day,” he complains as they reach his building. He fumbles with his keys for a few minutes, dropping them twice (which sets Cas into a bout of giggles each time), and finally manages to get them into the building. 

“Well, it’s a good thing we get to have nights like this, then,” Cas answers. Dean frowns and trots a little further ahead to his door.

“But, if you end up hitting it off with your date, I mean, when are you gonna even have time to hang out with me?” he blurts when he reaches his door, turning to face Cas. 

Castiel has one hand gliding across the wall as he walks, keeping his fingertips pressed against it when he stops. His eyes are just the littlest bit glazed over from the alcohol. It makes them shine brightly in the dim light of the hallway. One corner of his mouth is pulled down, and he looks almost sad. Dean didn’t want to ask the question; it kind of came out before he could think about it. He didn’t want Cas to hear the clingy part of him. He didn’t want Cas to think he wasn’t allowed to go and have the things Dean’s always flaunted around him. His goal isn’t to be the asshole in Cas’ life that rubs his love life in his face. Cas should have his own, too, with someone who appreciates him.

“What makes you think I’d spend less time with you, Dean?” Cas asks gently. He’s moved closer, only a few inches away from Dean now. Dean blinks at him, mouth open and ready to say something, but he has nothing. He presses his lips together.

“Well we only have a few more months left-“  
“Dean, you’re the one moving away.”

Dean blinks again at Cas, startled by the bite in his words. Cas is still meeting his eyes defiantly, but he’s chewing his bottom lip in the way that shows he’s actually nervous. Dean hadn’t thought about Cas’ reaction to him moving. He honestly just presumed after they graduated that Cas would move on to something better and leave Dean behind. That’s why he jumped at the internship; at least then he could leave before he was left. He never thought that Cas would be upset about the idea. He never thought about Cas wanting him around permanently.

Dean shakes his head slowly, not quite sure at what, and bites his own lip. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he said softly, suddenly feeling much more sober. He sees Cas’s expression crumble for a second before the boy shrugs his shoulders. Suddenly Cas seems fascinated by the molding on the floor.

“But I’d rather have you.”

Cas’ attention jerks back to Dean. Dean just shrugs helplessly, turning to the key in the lock. He lets the two of them into his apartment, tossing his keys and coat onto a nearby chair. The familiar thrum of a bass line through his ceiling vibrates the floor.  
“I’ll get you a pillow,” he mutters as he shuffles towards his room. He kicks his shoes off as he goes and starts ridding himself of each of his shirts. 

He feels like he’s opened a can of worms and he’s afraid Cas is gonna start looking for the bottom of that can. 

When he returns with a pillow and a blanket, Castiel has already stripped down to his boxers and tee shirt, clothes set in a new pile on the floor. He’s lying on his back on the couch, eyes closed. Dean rolls his eyes. Cas usually passes out quickly. He walks over and throws the blanket over his friend. He leans down to attempt to slip the pillow under Cas’ head when he opens his eyes. Dean sort of just freezes, inches away from Cas’ face, arms braced on the back and arm of the couch. Cas looks so innocent, blinking owlishly up at Dean with his ridiculously round blue eyes. Dean swallows hard. He makes a move to back away, but Cas’s hands shoot up suddenly. He finds himself being tugged forward gently and then the light brush of Cas’ lips against his cheek. His lungs suddenly forget to work and his breath hitches slightly.

“I’d pick you over anyone else, Dean,” Cas says lowly. Then, Cas is moving away and burying himself under the thick blanket. Dean catches a small smile on Cas’ face before he pushes himself away and heads back to his room.

He’s lying in his bed for about five minutes with his cheek and neck burning from Castiel’s touch before it’s all too much. He rolls onto his side and shoves his hand into his boxers. 

He comes to the thought of blue eyes looking up at him.

He rolls onto his back once more and scowls at the ceiling. The mental box breaks open, and a flurry of thoughts swim through his head angrily.

It’s here that Dean realizes miserably that he’s nursing a crush on his best friend.

“I am so fucked,” he breathes to the ceiling. 

The boys upstairs start stomping around as if in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam doesn’t help at all.

“I can’t believe you’re laughing, you asshole!” Dean snaps into his cell phone. Over the line, he can hear Sam wheezing as he tries to catch his breath. Sam attempts once more to say something, but it bubbles into another laugh. Dean glares at his phone as if he could somehow make Sam burst into flame on the other end.

When he woke up that morning, Castiel had already made him breakfast and coffee. They didn’t mention the night before, just ate breakfast and watched Adventure Time. It wasn’t awkward, per se, but rather there was this strange electric buzz in the air between them. A kind of tension that wasn’t necessarily bad. Or maybe it was just Dean realizing something that was already there. Cas left as soon as he looked at the clock, apparently realizing he had work in a half hour. Dean had called his brother shortly afterward to confess his big revelation.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but c’mon! I called this two years ago! And you kicked me for it!” Sam says finally, composing his chuckling long enough to speak. Dean is downright scowling now, but Sam continues. “I mean, you are the clingiest friends I have ever seen, you drag him around everywhere, and you have sleepovers. I’m surprised it took you this long to figure out it wasn’t platonic.”

“Okay, fine, I’m dense. That doesn’t help me, Sammy. How about some advice on what the hell I’m supposed to do about this?” Dean grits out. He’s regretting his decision to call his brat brother.

“Why can’t you just tell him? There isn’t any way there isn’t something there,” Sam answers patiently.

“’Cause…,” Dean starts, but he can’t think of a good enough reason. In his heart, he feels every reason why it can’t happen. Dean isn’t good enough for Cas. He’s not as smart or talented. He’s going off to live in a state known for deserts and gambling when Cas could go to so many other states and countries and be famous with his work and his knowledge. Dean is an anchor; he’s just here to make Cas as happy as he can while he’s stuck in this town he’s too big for. Cas is meant to fly away and go places. Dean will always be rooted into the ground because that’s just who he was meant to be. He can’t give Cas what he deserves. It wouldn’t be fair to burden him with his feelings, because Cas is the kind of person who would pity Dean and love him out of some sort of feeling of obligation. He’s too nice to say no. The thought of that makes Dean sick to his stomach.

“… if there was something there, he would have done something by now,” Dean lies. “He practically jumped on this blind date idea and he’s trying hard to make sure he impresses this kid. He’s interested in other people.”

Sam makes a clucking sound on the end of the line.

“Bitch!”  
“Jerk. Stop being a pansy and just tell him before you lose him to Blind Date Dude.”  
“You’re a great help, Sammy. A real love guru.”

Sam laughs again and Dean smiles. Bad advice and laughing aside, Dean misses Sam. He takes a little solace that when Sam heads off to Stanford, he will be less than a day’s drive away. Dean already made peace with leaving his Mom and Dad behind (if anything he and Sam were finally giving them time alone), but he wasn’t quite ready to give up his job of watching out for his little brother.

Dean hangs up with his brother a little while later and flops onto his back on the couch. He muses on what he’s supposed to do with this… thing he’s finally acknowledged. He had spent most of the night silently freaking out in his room. Not even having a big gay freak out, no, Dean gave up the idea of limiting himself to one gender a few years back; he was far too slutty to restrict the amount of sex he could have. No, this big freak out was on the whole idea of being in love with your best friend. He gives Sam some credit for calling it early. He remembers the conversation when Dean came home for the first time without Cas in tow and Sam had asked where his boyfriend was. Dean had got him pretty good in the shins for the remark. He’s completely embarrassed that his nerdy brother had picked up on it before him, but then again, Dean admits he’s always been a little emotionally oblivious. See Exhibit A: his laundry list of flings and half-girlfriends. He honestly doesn’t understand how he could have missed this, because it’s practically waving a rainbow flag in his face.

And Sam is a little right; after so long and given the little intimacy they shared the night before, Cas might at least be interested in Dean. But the voice in the back of Dean’s head curbstomps that little glimmer of hope. There’s no way; Cas would have revealed it by now. He has been all determined to practice for this date. He can’t take that away from Cas. Dean may be clingy, but he will not be selfish with Cas. The kid deserves a normal relationship with someone who’s up to his standards. Not to mention he doesn’t need to fuck up the one good friendship he has going with his stupid feelings.

Dean’s had no problem bottling his emotions before. Hell, he’s buried so many feelings in the past that they could be diamonds by now from the pressure. So, he sits up and goes to finish some homework, resolving to keep his mouth shut.

\---

Bottling turns out to be pretty easy, considering he doesn’t see Castiel for four days. It’s Thursday, two days before Cas’ big date. Dean has forcibly kept the thought out of his mind. Thankfully, he’d been busy non-stop, so he at least had other things to focus his attention on. The only hard part had been at night, and he typically solved that by jerking off and hating himself, in that order. Lather, rinse, repeat for four days. 

However, tonight is his night off, so he has sprawled himself out on his couch with a season of _Bones_ (do NOT judge- he watches it 80% for the forensics and 20% for Booth/Brennan UST), a couple of beers, and a cup of Ramen. He’s halfway through season six when there’s a knock on his door. He grumbles as he heaves himself out of his seat and shuffles to the door, hoping it’s not the assholes upstairs looking for pong balls again. 

He unlocks the door and throws it open to see Cas standing there. He’s soaked, head to toe, making a tiny puddle on the cheap hallway carpet. His hair is plastered to his face, making him look like a wet dog, and his oversized sweatshirt is so saturated with rainwater that it’s hanging to Cas’ knees. He blinks at Dean through the veil of wet hair, all big and blue and absolutely pathetic-looking.

“It’s raining,” he states, as if this is the answer to the questions in Dean’s expression.

Dean just drags the kid inside and throws his backpack to the floor. He wordlessly starts stripping Cas of his soaked clothes while Cas miserably explains. Apparently, his alarm had gone off late today and he had to run out the door to make sure he wasn’t late for work. Of course, he still ended up being late, was chewed out about it, and was docked an hour’s pay for it. On his walk home later, it started to downpour. When he got back to his dorm he realized he left his keys and phone on his desk, so he was screwed out of getting into his building and room. So he walked the fifteen minutes to Dean’s and waited at the front door until someone came out so he could get in. By the end, Dean’s managed to get Cas down to his boxers, onto the couch with a blanket and a dry pair of sweats, and he’s got a towel over his head.

“Just a shit day, Cas. Only some water and eight twenty-five out of your paycheck.” Dean reassures, rubbing Cas’ head furiously with the towel. Cas is silent beneath his hands for a few minutes until he grabs Dean’s wrist and looks up at him.

“Dean, I don’t think I should go on this date,” he says. 

Dean kicks the part of his brain that cheers at that.

“Cas, you’re having a bad day, there’s no need to punish yourself for oversleeping,” Dean answers, attempting to laugh it off and resume drying Cas’ hair.

“No, I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I saw you,” Cas says. Dean suddenly can’t swallow.

“What you said… that we only have so much time left together. You’re moving and I have no idea what I’m doing just yet. If… if this boy and I decided to see each other, I would see you even less than I already do, as you said. I don’t want to… put any stress on our friendship. So it seems like it would be wise to just not attempt to start any sort of relationship with someone right now,” Cas explains, turning his eyes down to the thread he’s been picking on in his borrowed sweats.

Dean is an idiot. He can’t let Cas do this. He can’t ruin his best friend’s chance at happiness because he is petty and jealous and possessive. No, that’s not fair of him.

“Cas, I was drunk, you can’t take what I said seriously,” he says lowly, hands slowing to a stop on Cas’ head. “I mean, you need to do this. What are you gonna do when I’m one and I’m not here to tutor you?” Cas laughs a little and shakes his head.

“Dean… I don’t think he would be interested in me anyway. I’m… I’m not in his league. I don’t think he’d see me that way; I’m just the weird art kid with the paint on all of his clothes,” he replies. There’s no joking in his tone, despite the laugh that accompanies it. Dean’s hands fist in towel and he’s yanking the towel, and Cas’ head consequently, roughly towards him. He pushes his forehead against Cas’, forcing the other boy to meet his eyes. Cas’ eyes are wide and glassy when they connect. Dean hears Cas’ breath hitch, sees his eyes darken slightly. He swallows hard and it takes Dean every ounce of his willpower to not follow the movement. He has to make a point.

“Cas, don’t you ever say that about yourself again, ever. Anyone would be an idiot to not like you. You’re smart as hell, ask anyone. Not to mention you’re so stupidly good at what you do. You’re not a weird art kid with paint on your clothes. You’re Cas. You’re the kid who put in the art gallery after his first drawing class. You’re the kid who’s never had under a 3.8 average since he started. You’re the kid who drags my drunk ass home and stays the night to make sure I don’t die in my sleep. You’re the kid who used to make dinner for our floor every Friday. You’re the kid who has the most bad-ass movie collection _ever_ because you don’t cheap out and buy the DVD, you go for the awesome special edition with the bonus footage. You’re are not just some “weird art kid”. You are _amazing_ , Cas, and you deserve to find someone who will see that and treat you the way you deserve to be,” Dean says. He struggles to keep his voice from breaking, but he keeps it fierce and he never leaves Cas’ eyes. They’re barely an inch apart. Dean can feel Cas breathing, fast and hot, on his face. All he can see is Cas’ eyes, round and bright, like a deer in headlights.

“So…,” Dean struggles to finish, “you have to go. Promise me, okay?” He punctuates the ‘okay’ with a light shake of Cas’ head. Cas nods obediently.

“I promise, Dean,” Cas says so softly that Dean could have missed it over the blood rushing in his ears. Cas looks so scared; Dean’s suddenly scared he’s crossed a line. So, he nods and slowly releases his hold, moving away. All he can manage is a gruff ‘good’, but it comes out more like a shaky exhale. He looks at Cas, who still looks shell-shocked, and darts his eyes away.

“Grab a beer; you’re hanging out here for the night,” he instructs, grabbing his beer and clicking the play button on the remote. He sees Cas shuffle towards the kitchen, watching him rummage through the fridge for beer and food.

As he watches his best friend, Dean reminds himself he’s doing the right thing. He’s moving states away in a few months, and he can’t leave Cas alone. Somebody has to be there for him on days like this, when he’s stuck in the rain and everything is going wrong.

Besides, Cas doesn’t want him. He couldn’t possibly. And Cas breaking his heart is the one thing Dean’s pretty sure he couldn’t handle.

\---

Saturday morning, Dean wakes up feeling like he’s gonna puke. He spends the day at the garage, focusing on oil changes and replacing brake pads. Work he can distract himself with. He doesn’t have to think about tonight at work. He even keeps the streak going when he goes home, showers, and cleans his apartment.

That is, until he leaves at six o’clock to pick up Cas.

Cas looks… dammit, he looks perfect. He’s found a pair of jeans with the fewest paint splotches and he’s wearing a button down/vest combo that makes him look like an adorable librarian. He’s fussing with his shirt, playing with the vest buttons, glaring at his reflection in the mirror.

“I look stupid,” he announces after his five-minute long staring contest.

“No, you don’t. You look… great,” Dean assures lamely. He sounds like a bad chick flick. Cas looks at him, eyes big and wary, but nods and grabs his coat. He doesn’t stop tugging at his sleeves, though.

“It’s gonna be fine, Cas. Just a date,” Dean tries again as they walk out of the dorm and start walking. Cas nods again, but he doesn’t stop fidgeting. And he starts chewing his lower lip. Dean forces himself to not look.

The walk to the Roadhouse is about fifteen minutes and it’s completely silent. But the entire time, Dean is mentally freaking out. He knows this is right; he keeps assuring himself of this. It’s only a date, so it doesn’t mean anything. Cas might not even like the guy, so it’s no big deal. But then the idea that the two hit it off explodes in his brain. He imagines the guy flirting with Cas like he did, and then he sees Cas smiling and flirting back. He even sees the guy slipping a hand around Cas’ waist as they walk home. Anything past that he swats out of his mind frantically. He can’t even _think_ about Cas kissing the guy without his stomach clenching angrily. He wonders if he has any hard liquor left at home. Maybe it would be easier to weather this storm piss drunk. At least he’d have a legitimate reason to puke, then. 

He cautions a looks at Cas. Cas looks like he’s about to take off. His lip is just about swollen now and he’s managed to pop off one of the buttons on his cuff. He’s staring so intently at the ground that Dean’s afraid he’s gonna walk into a pole or something. He doesn’t see why Cas should be nervous. The kid is going to be blown away. Hell, Dean sure as hell is. He completely hates himself for not realizing how he felt earlier. It’s not as if Cas has changed in any way. No, Cas is the same Cas. But suddenly, Dean is hyper-aware of everything that is attractive about Cas. It’s not that he didn’t think Cas was attractive before, but he guesses that he’s been falling in love with Cas’ personality the entire time. Now, he can’t even look at his friend without wanting to jump him. Again, he feels like a chick having some serious hormone spikes.

When they reach the Roadhouse, Dean halts to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. He turns to look at Cas, who is looking at Dean with a look of sheer terror that Dean’s heart clenches. He reaches out and grabs Cas’ shoulder.

“It’ll be okay. Just a date. No pressure, Cas,” he says resolutely, trying to calm the boy down. Cas’ expression doesn’t change, but it softens slightly and Dean feels the tension slowly bleed out of his body.

“Thank you, Dean, for your assistance,” Cas says, staring at Dean’s throat now. Dean shakes him, forcing Cas’ eyes back to his own. He attempts a smile, and Cas returns it with a tiny one of his own.

“No problem, man. Knock ‘em dead, tiger,” he replies with a pat to the shoulder before letting go. It takes him a moment to disengage himself from Cas’ eyes. He turns and heads back towards his apartment. Maybe he should just go to the liquor store anyway….

“Dean.”

Dean turns back to see Cas still standing there, pulling on his sleeves. 

“What, Cas? I’m telling you, he’s gonna-“  
“There isn’t anyone coming, Dean.”

Dean stops walking back towards Cas. He’s not quite sure he heard him correctly. He’s thinking that asshole part of his brain is messing with him.

“Uh… repeat that?” he manages to let out, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at Cas. Cas now looks like he’s the one who might puke.

“There isn’t a date. I made it up. Well, Balthazar did. It- it was his idea,” Cas stammers, looking helpless and lost and Dean cannot understand why.

“Then why- Why would you…?” Dean attempts to ask, but his brain is short-circuiting because he doesn’t get it. Why would Cas lie about a date of all-

“Dean, the date is for you. I want to go on a date with _you_.”

What.

No seriously, _what_? The little hamster in Dean’s brain that’s keeping the gears going has flown off in his mad dash to get figure out what is happening.

“I- I like you, Dean. I didn’t know how else to tell you and Balthazar showed me some show where they do this and he told me it’d be a good idea and I went along with it because I don’t want you to leave and me never tell you how I feel about you because I’ve felt like this for months and I don’t know what to do about it and I don’t want to ruin our friendship so if you don’t-“ Cas babbles, flailing his arms in a futile attempt to explain himself, but he doesn’t get to finish. 

Dean’s eliminated the space between the two of them and has a very firm grip on Cas’ face as he kisses the life out of him.

Cas makes a surprised squeak that Dean swallows, but it’s less than a second before he’s grabbing the front of Dean’s shirt and licking into his mouth. His entire body melts into Dean as he pushes himself as close as possible into the taller boy.

Dean can’t think of anything except that Cas isn’t going out with some potential douchebag English major. That Cas isn’t going to leave him alone in the next few months. That Cas actually planned this entire thing to admit to Dean his feelings. That Cas has feelings for him. That he’s not doomed to a life of being a terrible chick flick storyline.

He manages to pull away from Cas, but it’s about a centimeter apart, just enough that he can look him in the eye. Cas’ face is flushed and his lips are red and swollen and he looks absolutely breathless and awed.

“I’ve been freaking out for days, you son of a bitch,” Dean says with a wide smile. Cas is smiling too now, looking so beautifully relieved and happy that Dean has to start kissing him all over again. His grip has loosened, hands sliding into Cas’ hair and down to his hip, and Cas has his arms wrapped around Dean’s neck.

“We can figure it all out, right?” Cas breathes against his mouth, “We can do this?”

Dean nods, pulling back only a little. “Yeah, yeah we can. It’s you, Cas. I told you, I would rather have you,” he says softly, butting his forehead against Cas’.   
And Dean for the first time in a long time forgets about what’s coming and enjoys what he has right at this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> i blame mtv.


End file.
